


Hit the Books

by cloverdrop



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Crack, Keith with glasses, Long-haired Keith, M/M, Masturbation, Pervert Lance, Power Bottom Keith (Voltron), Pretty Keith, Roommates, Sex Toys, Straddles the line between an M and E rating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverdrop/pseuds/cloverdrop
Summary: College AU. Keith gets glasses. Lance thinks they make him look like a sexy librarian. He keeps that to himself, though.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 227





	Hit the Books

Sharing an apartment with someone means it's inevitable you'll end up knowing a lot about them. Whether you want to or not. 

Lance has collected _so many_ little facts about Keith during their two years living together. For example, Lance knows Keith is vegetarian and keeps his half of the fridge stocked with vegetables and weird cooking ingredients, misses the unnamed pet wolfdog he had to leave with a friend--the wolfdog is for real unnamed because Keith's still waiting for him to choose one, okay, it’s not that Lance doesn’t know their name, and that Keith doesn't let himself have a smartphone anymore because of his habit of getting addicted to f2p mobile games trying to beat his own best score. And he was a Samsung user. Which is lamer than not having a smartphone at all, so in Lance's absolutely correct opinion, Keith actually _upgraded_ via flip phone.

And Lance knows slightly embarrassing personal details too. Like how Keith sleeps with a threadbare, patch-covered stuffed hippo that's been with him since birth, basically--carried through multiple foster homes and is now keeping him company through college. And how Keith will buy the most generic brands of lotion to ever generic but will splurge for like, _good_ blackhead remover because he likes seeing all the gross gunk peel out of his skin. Keith still doesn't seem to understand the importance of real skincare science but apparently, the satisfaction that comes from using pore strips is in fact, universal.

The blackhead remover thing is also how he found out Keith passes out after a good fucking. While Keith was out of the apartment he'd snuck into his room to borrow a biore strip. Okay, he was going to take it. But next time they went out for ice cream he would've covered the bill so, yeah, borrowing.

Except Keith wasn’t out of the apartment. He was face down, ass up, drooling into his bedsheets, long bangs sticky with cum--his own cum wow, that _distance_ \--with a tan flesh tone dildo suction-cupped to the wall and balls deep in Keith's ass. 

Lance had stepped closer to make sure he wasn't seeing things. 

_Yep. That's definitely a dildo. It's probably about 7-8 inches, judging by the width of whatever_ isn't _inside Keith, who ko'ed full of plastic cock. Pretty recently too, seeing how the lube is still wet and shiny on the tight stretch of his abused rim--_

Then Keith had started to sleep-grind, little half movements that pushed puffs of air out his mouth and made his toes twitch. Lance, fearing for the potential shape of his face if Keith woke up and saw him there, booked it without getting the pore strip.

And Lance knows it wasn't a one time thing because he's seen Keith do it multiple times. Not that he's having sex with Keith. It's just, sometimes he can sense a vibration in the wall and, y'know. What if it's an earthquake? So he waits for the shaking to stop so he can check up on his friend and--yeah. Keith's passed out on fake cock.

And no, he does not plan this. He doesn't strategically wait for that telltale vibration to stop so he can come in to stare at Keith fast asleep but still connected to the wall dildo, held up by nothing but the power in his slender, strong thighs and the subconscious need for his ass to be filled. It looks nasty. In the bad way. Sometimes there's even lube spread on the wall like he was really going for it. Just fucking _giving_ it to himself. 

And Lance definitely does not think about Keith when jacking it. Even though it's really easy--too easy--to pretend that tan dildo is his own cock. He's not a pervert.

The point is, Lance knows a lot about Keith. So when Keith shows up wearing a new pair of glasses, outlined with thin black plastic, sitting high on the bridge of his sharp little nose, softening the intensity of his eyes and framing his pretty face oh-so-nicely, he's thrown for a loop.

"Since when did you have glasses?"

Keith sets his backpack down next to the shoe rack as he bends down and unlaces his red sneakers. And even though he's sitting on the couch on the opposite side of the room Lance can see the seam of his tiny hip briefs where the thin, cottony fabric of Keith's joggers pulls tight over his ass. Lance sends a quick thanks over to his ancestors for giving him 20/20 vision. 

He considers making a friendly suggestion for Keith to invest in some jockstraps. Y'know, to eliminate the pantyline. Or go commando and let everything hang free. Eliminate the need for underpants and help save the Earth! Somehow. 

Keith slings his backpack over a shoulder and turns around. "Just got them today."

"Since when did you _need_ glasses?"

Keith shrugs and takes off one of the bright red hair ties he keeps around his wrist. "They're for reading. Just wanted to try wearing them on the way back." 

Then Keith gathers up his long hair and ties it into a messy bun. That’s when Lance dies. His heart stops in his chest and all his blood rushes out from his limbs and into his dick. He just hopes his laptop covers everything.

With the new glasses on, Keith looks like a very sexy librarian. He can see it now: Keith in a light white blouse with the top buttons open to reveal his lacy undershirt, dark maroon pencil skirt accentuating the slimness of his waist, with sheer tights underneath flattering his long and shapely legs. He’d cat walk toward him in stilettos, as graceful as he does anything. 

_No talking in the library._ Keith would say. Because in this scenario, he really is working at the library. _Quiet or I’ll throw you out._

 _You can’t tell me what to do._ Lance would say back. 

Then Keith would sit on the table and press a stilettoed foot into Lance’s cock, massaging it into hardness with steady pressure. He’d lift up his skirt to show off his flushed, hard cock straining against the sheer pantyhose, no underwear, precum beading through the thin fabric. Lance’s mouth waters, wanting that weight sliding heavy against his tongue. 

_Brat._ Keith says. The word lights up Lance’s spine. He shivers. _Guess I’ll just have to_ make _you shut up._

Then real Keith talks. "I'm gonna go to the gym. You gonna be here when I get back?"

Lance is on autopilot, staring at Keith’s exposed neck. "Uh huh. Yeah."

"You want anything?"

"Yeah."

Keith gives him a weird look when he doesn't elaborate.

"From the store? Or? You know what, nevermind. I don't wanna cook today. You want takeout?"

"Yeah."

"Okay… I’ll pick the place."

Lance nods. Keith gives him a look that might read as fond, or mildly condescending.

Keith closes the door to his room and reemerges 5 minutes later with a completely new outfit. Black leggings, dark grey t-shirt, red windbreaker, duffel bag over his shoulder, hair re-tied into a low ponytail and sans glasses. Lance is always impressed at how Keith manages to change so quickly and still have a coordinated outfit. Maybe it’s because everything he owns is either black or red. You can’t go wrong with a limited palette. 

Keith strides over to the shoe rack and bends down to pick up his gym shoes. No pantyline this time. … Huh. Much to think about… 

“Bye!” Lance calls out after Keith’s slipped on his gym shoes, because Keith doesn’t _say_ “bye” unless someone does it first. Lance can’t tell if it’s a leftover habit borne out of his sad orphan backstory or if it’s just a _Keith_ thing.

He gets a small wave and cutely dimpled smile in response. “Bye Lance.”

It’s so _innocent_ and _sweet_ and Lance feels guilty for what he knows he’s gonna do next, legs bouncing impatiently, anxiously. As soon as Keith pulls the door shut and the sound of his footsteps have gone silent, Lance is in his room, leaning against the wall, jeans forced down his thighs, fucking the grip of his own hand to the thought of Keith in glasses. He’s so riled up it doesn’t take much to push him to the edge.

His breaths come out harsh, desperate as he gets closer. Keith said these were his reading glasses, right? What if he fell asleep while reading on the couch, glasses slipping off his nose and mouth open, breathing evenly. Lance could sneak up to him, jack off on his face, _come_ on his face, his release dripping down Keith’s glasses, down the sharp cut of his jaw and a little bit trailing into his wet, red mouth. Keith would purse his lips at the subtle heaviness, smearing it, making opaque threads when his mouth falls open lax once again.

Lance comes for that, moans loud into the emptiness of his room as he throws his head back and shoots cum onto the front of his shirt, violently fucking his hand through the aftershocks of his orgasm. The door shakes with him. 

His legs give out and he falls on hands and knees, his face hot, panting heavily, cock still pulsing out little drops of cum onto his carpet.

_Fuck._

He really _is_ a pervert.

**Author's Note:**

> Feels like I should apologize for something but I'm not sure what.


End file.
